SOTA c42s02
Text When Antares came to, he was laying in a bed he didn't recognize, and his back hurt. But in a different way than it had before, he thought, as he blearily looked back and forth... but there wasn't a whole lot to see. Just white cloth curtains, and sky blue sheets; all that combined made him pretty sure he was laying in a clinic or hospital somewhere. He shifted a little, and brushed the covers down to look silently at his body: bandages, and he could feel the distinct scratch of sutures. His mouth was dry, and when he glanced lethargically to the side, he could see an IV line being fed into one of his forelegs. That probably wasn't a good sign either, as he flexed his body slowly... and gasped quietly at the pain, before trembling and looking over his shoulder to see the absence of what he hadn't felt. His wings were gone. And as he flexed his body again despite knowing it was probably irritating his stitches, he could feel that even the stumps had been... removed. He breathed slowly in and out, and he didn't know what to feel: he always thought of himself as a unicorn first, yes, but his wings... had been a part of him he'd long gotten used to. Pain or not, he loved to fly... and now... Antares Mīrus closed his eyes and reached up to silently brush his hair back, the faintest of tremors running through his body. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break down and not even know what happened next. But he knew he couldn't, as he instead slumped back against the bed and stared silently up at the ceiling, whispering: “You made it out alive. Be thankful for that.” But there was no rush this time, like there usually was. Just pain, and... absence. He breathed quietly in and out through his mouth, trying to reassure himself, but soon enough bitterness took over, taking thoughts like: 'now you'll no longer be mistaken for a winged unicorn' and making them 'now you're no longer special.' He shivered a little, then rubbed at his face again before glancing up as he heard hoofsteps approaching, before the curtains were drawn back. The nurse looked surprised to see him awake, and she quickly turned, calling: “Doctor! The patient is awake!” A moment later, Antares had at least three ponies checking him over, and he listened hollowly as they explained to him what had happened to him. His bones had been broken, he'd suffered extensive organ and nerve damage... he'd gone though the amputation of both wings. Yesterday, they had gotten permission from his family to remove the stumps, on the basis there was no magic that could restore a pony's wings and leaving the stumps there would just cause much, much more pain. So they had surgically removed them: dangerous, but the operation had been a complete success. He was lucky, all things considered. He was lucky. He'd heard that before. Antares breathed slowly in and out, and when he cared enough to pay attention to the world next, he looked up to find himself seated in a wheelchair, out on a balcony overlooking Canterlot. The view was spectacular, but... he couldn't really see any beauty in anything right about now. He glanced to the side, and saw he wasn't alone. Pinkamena was seated nearby, calmly whittling away at a block of wood with a knife. She glanced towards him and simply nodded, and he silently nodded back to her, watching as the demon finished carving part of a pony's head. Then she put the wood and the knife aside on a small table, before slipping out of her chair and walking over to him, and she silently hugged him and pulled his head against her chest. Antares clung to her, this pony who was like his big sister, and he trembled before beginning to cry quietly. His tears spilled down his cheeks and over her tattooed breast, and she simply looked silently down at him and held him close, rubbing a hoof soothingly along his back as she kept him safe and close against her body, demon comforting and protecting wingless unicorn. After almost ten minutes, Antares finally settled, shivering as he dropped back in the wheelchair, and Pinkamena sat back as she reached up and gently touched under his chin, guiding his eyes up to meet hers. “Listen to me, kid. You can be upset, and angry, and all those other things, but don't give up. You've got too much of your parents in you to end up breaking like I did a long time ago. And you remember we're family. I'm here for you, and your parents are going to be there for you, every step down the trail. But you lost your wings; you didn't lose your soul.” “Yeah, I know... I know. It just...” Antares swallowed thickly, looking at her and trembling. “Now I'm going to have to go back home... almost as big a failure as when I lost Rustproof, or Prestige. I knew we should have turned back, and if we'd just turned back I wouldn't've put everyone in danger and cost myself my own wings... what was I thinking? What the hell was I doing?” “You were doing what you had to do.” Pinkamena stopped, then she stood up and added quietly: “You didn't fail, kid. Look at you, you're the one who suffered. And you're the one who took on that Clockwork Pony all by your goddamn self and drove her off. Now listen, I got something for you, and I'm kind of tired of playing nice so I'm gonna give it to you, say one last thing, then leave you alone.” Pinkamena turned around, and Antares frowned a little, watching as the demon strode over to the saddlebag laying at the foot of the chair she had been in. She dug something out of this, then turned around and tossed it towards him, and Antares reared back in surprise as a piece of gleaming silver sword landed in his lap. It had shattered in the shape of lightning bolt, but it had been dulled slightly, and Antares picked this up with a frown before Pinkamena said quietly: “That's a piece of that sword you must have shattered your way through to get to Psukhikos. Now listen, kid: you're better than me. You don't need revenge and violence like I do. So I want you to hold onto that piece of sword, that little piece of your enemy, and remember what we're trying to do here. We break weapons and we protect others. Ponies like you should leave getting revenge to ponies like me.” The demon turned, heading calmly back to her satchel as Antares looked down at the piece of sword resting on his hoof, staring at it before he looked silently over at Pinkamena as she put her things back into the bag, and then he asked quietly: “What makes you think I want to be better than you, though? Why shouldn't I enjoy revenge when we have to stop these monsters from Clockwork World anyway?” “Because that stuff is better left to me, Scrivener, and Nightmare Moon. Well, both your moms, I guess, Twilight's starting to get there too, isn't she?” Pinkamena remarked almost casually, and Antares gritted his teeth. “Don't say that about her, Pinkamena! Not right now, I'm not in the mood and... she's not.” Antares said forcefully, leaning angrily forwards, before he frowned when Pinkamena chuckled quietly and looked over at him with quiet entertainment as she slipped on her satchel. “What?” “See, kid? You don't like revenge, or all that darkness. You wouldn't be so pissed off about the thought of Twilight giving in too if you did.” Pinkamena replied calmly, striding over to the stallion and reaching up to ruffle his mane lightly, and he shifted a bit before the demon said softly: “That feeling, that anger... that hate... it doesn't set in until a while after you're hurt. But I'd rather prevent you thinking like I think at all, Antares, it's not a fun place to be. And you're a good kid. You're gonna get through this, because if you can't do it on your own, I'm going to drag you through this, got it?” Antares hesitated, then he simply nodded a little and gave a faint smile up to her, and Pinkamena briefly smiled in return before turning and heading for the door, adding over her shoulder: “Slap and the rest of your family are coming to see you, kid. You don't gotta smile or anything, just try and listen, got that?” The stallion only nodded a little, and he opened his mouth to thank her... but the demon was already gone, and so instead he only sighed quietly before looking up into the evening sky. He wasn't even entirely sure of how long he'd been gone, as he played silently with the piece of sword between his hooves, looking quietly down as he breathed slowly in and out. It was only ten or so minutes before he heard the sound of hooves behind him, and he smiled faintly over his shoulder as Sleipnir reached up and squeezed his shoulder firmly with a compassionate look to his nephew. Then Aphrodisia ducked under her father's forelimb to hug him tightly with a tremble, as Avalon hovered in with a weak smile and concern in her eyes, and Meadowlark stepped up to his other side, gazing at him silently, with love and worry and... so much else. He breathed quietly, and for that moment, everything was okay, as he looked back and forth before simply nodding and giving his own faint smile in response, closing his eyes and bowing his head forwards as he promised quietly: “Everything's going to be okay.” In spite of everything, and how much part of him hurt, he still felt like he'd spoken the truth. And even if he no longer had wings to take him into the freedom of the sky... he still had his friends and family to keep him safe and warm, and to carry him when he could no longer walk. He squeezed the piece of sword silently, and repeated his promise to himself, in his mind: that no matter what, everything was going to be okay... because he wasn't alone. Top ↑